Saturday Night Special
by little toshiro
Summary: An affair, a troubled teen, a loveless marriage and at least one happy ending.
1. Chapter 1

"I just don't understand why it has to be every Saturday. Elycia is home from the Academy on the weekends and I just thought it would be nice for us to be a family when she's home." Gracia was tired of these arguments that she never won and that never seemed to go anywhere. Watching your husband get all prettied up every single Saturday to go out with some vague plans about meeting the boys was nerve wracking. Especially since he never came home before the following morning. It was obvious to her that he was having an affair. She had no idea with who. She had confronted him on it before and he always gave her back the same old lines. She was crazy. She was jealous. She was PMSing. How could she not trust him? Maybe she needed therapy. She was just afraid of him leaving because of what had happened to Maes so long ago.

"Don't give me that crap about keeping me here because of Elycia. She spends her weekends with her friends and I'll probably be back before she will. This is just more of your inane jealousy and I'm tired of it Gracia. Tired of it! Who dropped everything to take care of you and Elycia after Maes died? I did. Do you ever want for anything? No. All I ask in return is that you give me my Saturday nights with the guys and you shut the hell up about it." Tears welled up in Gracia's eyes. Maes had traveled extensively because of his duties in the military and there were of course times when he wouldn't be home for months at a stretch but he had never made her feel so alone. Not for the first time she wondered to herself if accepting Roy's offer of marriage had been a mistake. She had had misgivings when he initially asked her, the affection they felt for each other was platonic at best but she had accepted because she was lonely. The irony was not lost on her.

"Go. Just go." Her breath hitched and sped up, a sure sign that full-on sobbing wasn't far off. Tears began to slip-slide down Gracia's face. Roy started to speak, but Gracia didn't want to listen to anything else he had to say. "Just go. And tell your whore I said 'hello'." With that she turned on her heel and ran to her bedroom. Roy waited with his coat still in his hands until the echoes of the slamming door faded and quietly slipped out into the early evening air. It was time for his Saturday Night Special.

Cologne had been sprayed, hair neatly combed and braided, clothes had been very carefully pressed, and the apartment had been meticulously straightened. Dinner was simmering on the stove. But tonight something was missing. His little place was perfect, of that there was no doubt. He was perfect. He had triple checked his appearance in the mirror. On nights like tonight he even went so far as to ditch his customary plain black pants, t-shirt and boots in favor of something a little more dramatic. It could be very difficult to try too hard without looking like he was trying to hard. Everything was in place but that rush of excitement was gone. In its place was an unfamiliar feeling of resentment. Not that he had any right to feel resentful. He had known exactly what he was getting into from the start.

Keep breathing, that was the trick. Surprised to find himself once again in front of the mirror, he decided to dismiss his feelings and concentrate on something he could do something about. For the millionth time since arriving home at five o'clock that evening he picked up his eye-liner. Or as Roy called it, "guy-liner." It was the only admission to insecurity he was willing to make. The only time he really acted like a chick about this whole thing. Would his precious Roy think he was being silly by wearing it? Would he even notice? What if he didn't notice? What if he liked it? What the fuck did it matter anyway? Realizing he had a good ten minutes left until his … whatever he was showed up and that he was bored anyway, he applied the thick black gel with an artist's accuracy.

The waiting was the hardest part. He waited all week. He waited at work. He waited at home. Existence for him was at a complete stand still until Saturday at 7:00. It wasn't that he couldn't focus his attention and energy on other tasks, it was that he didn't want to. If he wasn't waiting for Roy, he wouldn't be thinking about Roy. He didn't want to not be thinking about Roy.

What the hell else could he do to kill five minutes? Looking around with that antsy anticipation not unlike a child waiting for Santa Claus, he spied some candles. Roy would probably call it gay, which amused Edward to no end. How more gay could you get that having sex with another man? How much time had that killed? Thirty seconds. Awesome sauce.

A firm, authoritative knock sounded making the nervous boy jump. He ran to the door and then waited a few moments, as if to say, "Oh, is it that time already?" He wasn't fooling anyone anyway, certainly not himself, and certainly not his lover on the other side of the door.

He could practically hear the smirk in the older man's voice as he rested his hand on the door knob. "Alright, Miss Prissy Pants, quit pampering yourself and open the door. I'm hungry." A long-fingered hand unhurriedly opened the apartment door. He lifted one brow and leaned his weight against the doorframe so Roy would have to brush past him into the apartment. He really had no shame.

"Was I supposed to make dinner?" Edward responded innocently. His lover rolled his eyes. "I can smell it, you twerp. Nice try, though. How's your brother?"

Edward looked up at him through perfect golden lashes. "Sorry, Roy baby, I'm deaf to all pleasantries until I get my kiss." Dark, bemused eyes rolled Heavenward in mock-annoyance. "God, someone's needy today. Fine, but just a kiss. I don't want you to distract me from dinner."

"Whatever you say, boss."

He tilted his head up, and as his lover-my, oh my, did he love having a lover- bent his head down, he evaded slightly to the right to land his lips on a pale, perfect neck. Tanned hands snaked up to tangle and twist in black hair.

Rough words and fast movements always caught Roy off guard. _Want you, need you, missed you, love you, God, I want you. _Hands went everywhere. That kid had always been good with his hands, though he supposed at some point he should stop calling him that, even if it was in his own head. Did it really matter? He was already going to hell for corrupting the boy in the first place.

"I'll tell her I'm going on vacation." He surprised himself by saying. The playful, sinful, wonderful, hands stilled on his chest. Edward quirked an eyebrow. "I'll just put dinner on the table." He said, choosing to ignore the older man's outburst and gently push him away. Turning away, he walked over to the oven and pulled out what looked to Roy like chicken teriyaki, his favorite. "Al his fine, but still hurt that you didn't make it to the wedding. Everyone missed you." It was highly doubtful to Roy that necessarily _everyone_ had missed him there. "Everyone?" He responded. "Seriously? You look lovely in white, Winry, sorry for murdering your parents." He stopped when he saw the look his boyfriend was giving him. This night was not going how he had intended at all. "Anyway, I was being serious earlier. I think a romantic getaway just the two of us is just what we need. Oh, we'll have to be discreet of course. Don't look at me like that, it's a good idea."

He could read the confusion on his young lover's face. The hope. Then, of course, the skepticism. "You'll tell her you're going on vacation. Without her and her daughter. Wild weekend, just the boys, eh? Tell her you're going fishing."

"Well, why not?"

He shrugged. "Oh, alright. This better not get out though, it could ruin your career Mr. General. Just throwing that out there."

"Well, if it does you can say you told me so. And we can run away to the East and live quietly as has-been alchemists and adopt orphaned Ishbalan children and light paper lanterns during the harvest festival."

In a relatively clean workshop in a quiet valley with quiet people, a quiet man with hair in a long ponytail sat back on his workbench and let out a loud sneeze. "Someone must be talking about you," a wizened little old lady told him while handing him a tissue. The young man smiled. "Probably another nosy townsperson spreading rumors about Winry being pregnant." He rolled his eyes. Didn't people have anything better to do? Al considered that their own lives must be quite unsatisfactory if they spent so much time discussing him and his new wife. He smiled again. "I mean," he continued, "why else would two people who are deeply in love want to get married unless the poor sap in question had gotten his young lady knocked up?"

She was not given to fits of emotion. She was definitely not given to crying fits. But, sitting in the doctor's office the tears just would not stop for anything. _I'll give you a moment alone._ The doctor had said. She just couldn't process. She wanted to have been married for a while. There was so much left still to do, so many places to see... What would Al say? Did Al even want kids? Two orphans raising a baby. He would probably want to name it Ed. Did she even like the name it Ed? What if it was a girl? Edwina? Oh, God that's a terrible name. Please let it be a boy. Inexplicably Winry started laughing through her tears.

Elicia Hughes was pissed off. She had literally exhausted all of her resources. Not a single friend in Central was able to have her over for the weekend. She was reduced to shopping around downtown until stores closed. She was not looking forward to going home.

_Mommy, please don't cry... Please don't cry..._

Her earliest memories as a young child. She was "Mom" now but the line was the same. Reluctantly she said goodbye to the shop girl at La Femme Boutique and started walking home.

Try as she might she could not find it in herself to feel pity for her mother, trapped in a loveless marriage with an asshole who refused to divorce her because it would negatively impact his military/political career. The only time she enjoyed being home was when she "accidentally" called her step-father Colonel because it pissed him off so much. Not the for the first time she wondered how her father could have been best friends with such a skeez. She reasoned that "the Colonel" had changed drastically after her father's death. She remembered one fight in particular with Roy, a right screaming match in which she had insulted everything from the stupid way he fixed his hair to his ridiculous state issued uniform. _"I don't expect for you to think of me as a father but I do expect a certain amount of respe-" "Good! My father showed my picture to everyone! You don't even have a picture of me and you make my mother miserable so just shut up!" _

She had thrown flowers at the wedding.

Gracia looked up as the door quietly creaked open. _Could it be? _But no. It was just her daughter, looking resigned. Elicia steeled herself. "Hey Mom! I missed you so much! How are you? Where's the Colonel? The house looks great." It was all coming out in a rush, talking, talking, talking to fill the void. Completely ignoring her mother's tear-stained cheeks.

A metal arm reached across his lover and picked up his bedside clock. 3am already. Wonderful. He set the clock down. "Roy." Nothing. "Roy." A little louder. "Sugar dumpling. Wake up. You need to get home." A pale hand rubbed the sleep out of black eyes. Roy sat up slowly and repeated Ed's earlier motion, checking the clock. "3am? Fuck it. I'm sleeping over. If you-know-who calls I'm too drunk to walk home and I'll see her in the morning. Maybe."

"Your funeral, General."

"Whatever. Good night."

"G'night," the blonde responded, "love you." _Oh, shit. _

Black eyes snapped back open.


	2. Chapter 2

He woke up to light sifting in between the blinds. Automatically, just like every Sunday, he reached over to wrap his arm around his still sleeping boyfriend. This morning his arm hit empty space. Sitting up and yawning, yellow eyes cast about the room, searching. He looked for a suit on the floor. Gone. Ed got up and went into the kitchen. Empty. He checked the restroom. No one. He scanned the refrigerator door. No note. Feeling a mix of hurt and indignant, he walked back to his bedroom and reached for the phone, intent on dialing a number he knew by heart and jumped a little when the phone rang first.

"Hello, you have reached Edward Elric, State Alchemist and all-around badass. How may I assist you on this lovely Sunday morning?"

"Well, that's an improvement over, 'this is Ed, what the fuck do you want?"

"Good morning to you too, Winry.  
>"We need to talk."<p>

"Last thing I needed, first thing this morning."

"Cute."

"Cute is my middle name. Talk to Al, isn't that what you married him for?"

"Why I married him is none of your business. Are you going to meet me or not?"

"Says the girl who is a day train ride away."

"Not anymore, I'm not. I'm in town. Central Hotel. You can meet me in the lobby."

"A Hotel tryst? Be still my beating heart."

"You wish."

"Fuck you."

"I'll be there in an hour."

Al could never find anything he was looking for in this house. He could swear shit just got up and walked off. He was looking for a book. He'd already searched the usual places. Library, under the bed, under the mattress, on the nightstand, in the drawer of the nightstand, beside the toilet (best place to think, in his opinion) and under the couch cushions and had come up empty. The only places left to look were in Winry's zones. Places he shied away from because she was damned dangerous with that wrench, and heaven forbid _he _misplaced one of _her _items. With a heavy sigh of defeat he began searching through her desk drawers. She was off in Central for a long weekend to get AutoMail supplies. He wasn't sure what. Whenever she talked about it his eyes glazed over just like hers did when he discussed Alchemy with her. Truth be told, it made him feel a little lonely.  
>He closed the drawer and opened another one. Then another. He almost slammed one in frustration. Where the hell was the damn thing? Why couldn't she just leave his shit alone? Last drawer, crazy eights. He slid it open and blinked at a single bottle, the only thing in the drawer. He would have dismissed it and slammed the door but he had just forgotten all about the book. He picked the bottle up and closed his eyes. When he opened them the label hadn't changed, nor had the name on the bottle.<p>

**Winry Elric**

**Prenatal Vitamins**

It said some other things about taking one pill a day with food and etcetera but the words were all blurring together and didn't make any sense. None of it made any sense. He set the bottle down on the desk and sat heavily in the chair. Everything inside of him just stilled, drowned out by a faint buzzing in his ear. He lifted his arm and stared at it for a moment and then ripped it across his wife's desk knocking everything, but most importantly that damning bottle, onto the floor. He didn't realize he was crying until he put his head in hands.

General Roy Mustang parked his luxury sedan in the cemetery parking lot, took a deep breath and got out of the car. The wind whistled through the trees and leaves crunched under a pair of military issue boots. A gate swung open and then closed with a resounding clang. His hand held a brown paper bag filled with his means of getting through this ...incident. His younger lover's momentary lapse in judgment.  
>It didn't take long to find the gravestone he was looking for. Maes Hughes, beloved Husband and Father died in service to the great country of Amestris. Roy didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He sat down and leaned against the marker. He opened the liquor bottle and took a long swig. He no longer cringed at the burn as he had as a boy. What could really burn the Flame, after all?<br>It wasn't supposed to be this way, he mused. He was supposed to get married and be happy. He'd earned it hadn't he? With his blood sweat and tears he had found redemption. He had the perfect family for politics. They looked great in magazine articles and newspaper clippings. They looked great at rallies and parties and social gatherings and the entire mundane etcetera that came with being in power. Wasn't it also appropriate that he, after finding his wife unsatisfying, hook up with a hot, young blonde? All the other Generals did it. Of course, Edward wouldn't be Edward if he didn't complicate things. He allowed himself a small smile with nothing real behind it. Love. What was that, anyway? And most importantly, what the hell was Roy supposed to say back?  
>He turned his head so that his cheek would rest against the granite, he rubbed slightly. A caress. Again he lifted the bottle and had a drink from it.<br>"I'm taking care of them for you." The words were swallowed up in the silence of the cemetery.

He showered, shaved, dressed, tied his hair in a braid (everyone had given him a hard time about the pony tail but it wasn't until Roy said he missed the braid that he reverted back) put his shoes on at the door and left his apartment. Snapshots of memory slid in and out of his head during the short drive to the Hotel. Black hair, blonde hair, pale skin, tan skin... Why did he always find himself in bed with the wrong person? Just then he missed being fifteen and those carefree days of being so busy fighting for his life that he hadn't thought twice about...(you are an adult, you can say it) sex.

Winry stared at her coffee cup without actually seeing it. She was so lost in her thoughts she visibly jerked when Ed pulled out a chair and sat down next to her.  
>"About time you got here. I was waiting forever." He attempted to joke.<br>She made herself meet his eyes.  
>Better to just say it and get it over with.<br>"I'm pregnant."  
>"And?"<br>"That's all you have to say?"  
>"What do you want me to say? What did Al say?"<br>"I haven't told him yet."  
>"I see."<br>"Do you?"  
>"Still holding out hope. Thy torch doth burn brightly..." he broke and held his cheek. The slap shouldn't have come as much of a surprise. He really was being a dick.<br>"Are you planning on tell him?" Edward asked after a moment.  
>Winry laughed but there was no humor in it.<br>"Telling him what? That I'm pregnant? That it's not his? That I slept with his brother, but he doesn't have to worry about me leaving because said brother is pining away for the man who murdered my parents? Sure, Ed. I'll get right on that."  
>"Well, when you put it like that."<br>"Stop it."  
>"Stop what, trying to lighten the mood? You drop one fuck of a bomb on me and then want to dictate my reaction? Sorry princess, not happening. You made the mess, you clean it up. As far as Roy goes... Well, you can't help who love. For what it's worth, I'm sorry it hurts you."<br>"You can't help who you love, huh?" She gave him a long look. "I could have told you that."


End file.
